


Knight

by Kissa



Category: Mission: Impossible (Movies)
Genre: Established couple, F/M, PWP, Period Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-01
Updated: 2019-12-01
Packaged: 2021-02-18 06:29:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,149
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21623293
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kissa/pseuds/Kissa
Summary: What happens when you misplace a small but important item up a very troublesome place? Luckily there's August, your boyfriend, to help avert any disasters your mind can imagine.
Relationships: August Walker/Reader
Kudos: 51





	Knight

**Author's Note:**

  * For [natalie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/natalie/gifts).



> I was once gifted a very beautiful fic by a very talented person on this exact topic, which left me greedier for more. So I added my own take on it. 
> 
> I know, it's a weird little ditty. Whatevs. It pleases the wandering animal.

The only thing that let you know August had already been home was the bundle of worn work clothes he had stuffed into his laundry basket. They smelled like gunpowder and had some suspicious dark brown spots on them and as usual, you did not want to ask. 

He had also texted you that he had some errands to do, after which he would come home and take you out to dinner. 

You already felt bad because you had just gotten your period and all you wanted to do was curl up on the sofa with alcohol, painkillers and sweets (not the healthiest mix, but desperate times call for desperate solutions), and now tears threatened to spill from your eyes because an extra misfortune had added itself to the pain of your cramps and the general discomfort of your uterus bitching you out for daring to not be pregnant yet *another* month. 

It’s like this that August finds you, perched uncomfortably on the sofa, sitting stiffly as though you’ve swallowed a broomstick. You know rationally that nothing bad can happen and that sooner or later, it will be solved somehow. 

“Sweetheart, what’s wrong? Why aren’t you dressed up to leave?” August asks, and he only sounds worried, not irritated. 

You look away and sigh. It’s too embarrassing to say it out loud. 

“Come on, babe. What’s wrong? I can’t help you if you don’t tell me what’s wrong.” 

“It’s… lady issues.” You manage. 

Normally, you don’t have to worry about periods souring up your already limited time with your boyfriend. But recently, the side effects of your birth control became too much to take and you went off it, which means having to deal with periods and all the not-so-fun things they come with. 

Not only is August a man, someone who doesn’t have to worry about this kind of messes, but he also had a vasectomy and he regularly gets checked to see if things are dead and gone like he prefers them to be. He is a zero problem person and you envy him for it. 

And now, this. 

Unable to handle it anymore, and distracted by August coming close and pulling you to sit across his thighs, big, hot tears you held back for long start rolling down your cheeks. 

“Baby! Is it that bad? We can stay in and I can order, we don’t have to go anywhere. Just tell me what is wrong, I hate to see you in so much distress.” He says, caressing your back with slow, long strokes, as though you were a frightened cat. 

Unable to say it, still, you point towards your belly. 

“It’s still in and… I lost it.” 

For a moment, he looks like a dog who heard thunder for the first time. 

“You left what in?... Aaaaaah. Oh.” He cycles through reactions as it dawns on him. “You lost a vibrator in there?” 

Your eyes widen. 

“No! How dumb do you think I am?!” You scoff, forgetting your distress for a second, so you can be mildly offended by his assumption. “It’s my moon cup. Usually it’s easy to grab a hold of but now… it’s like a labyrinth in there.” 

“I didn’t think you were dumb, babe. But if you don’t tell me?” August looks hurt as he says those words. 

It breaks your heart to see him looking like that and you hug him tightly. 

“It’s my fault!” You say, letting go a bit so you can look at him and kiss him on the cheek, soft and apologetic. “I don’t want you to think I’m gross. Women aren’t supposed to be gross.” 

“But… you’re human like me, baby. Please don’t think anything as natural and as innocent as a period would make me see you in a different light. As for the cup, I can perhaps be more successful at extracting it?”

“You’d do that?” You ask. It’s you who now see your boyfriend in a new light. 

“Blood doesn’t faze me. I see a lot of blood at work and it’s always for dead serious reasons. Periods are no biggie.”

“Oh.” You say, thinking of how you forgot that August is way more used to seeing and touching blood than you like to think. You know what kind of work he does, but it’s easier to ignore it most of the time. “I guess you’re right. It still feels weird to have you rummaging around there if you don’t get anything out of it.” 

“Babe. Look at me,” August says, his voice now with a serious note to it. “You don’t only exist for my pleasure. I love you, and I want to help. Now, let’s get this cup out. I think it would be better if you stood in the shower, just in case. Will you do that for me? Please.” 

He is being so gentle and he keeps his voice low, non-threatening and compelling. When he gets in what you privately call “boss mode”, you cannot even dream of resisting him. It’s like he knows exactly what to do and say to get past your anxiety, worries and self-consciousness. 

You get up and go to the bathroom like he suggested, taking off your clothes and standing in the shower without switching it on. 

Moments later, August joins you, also naked, probably to make you feel more at ease.

It’s just that seeing him naked always has an instant effect on you and you forget about your temporary predicament as your uterus decides to contract greedily at the sight. “I WANT,” it screams, and as the pain of the sudden contraction ebbs, pleasure floods you in its place. 

He catches the change in your energy and he smiles, nodding. Kneeling in front of you, he looks up at you, waiting for your go. 

You want him touching you, nothing matters anymore. The plans for going out, the embarrassment, the worries - now that August is here and his hands are on you, one resting on your hip, the other gently massaging your lower belly, everything is good in the world. 

“Please.” You offer, knowing he won’t be happy with just a nod. 

“Let’s see,” August says and his moustache becomes a straight line as he presses his lips together in concentration. 

It helps that your body reacts to his presence so promptly, because now blood rushed downstairs and you started to get heated up and wet, which means his fingers aren’t going in dry. 

He first guides one of your legs to rest on his shoulder, before two fingertips caress along your labia and delve in. 

You try and help by relaxing, breathing deeply and trying to push down. 

“Wait. I know why you couldn’t find it.” August says. “Damn, cup. You really went up there.” He comments. “This might pinch a bit.” 

His fingers twist around something and you feel that same something give and start to move. Before you have time to wonder what the hell is going on down there, his thumb joins in and pulls. 

It does pinch, but just a bit, because August feels and sees you flinch and stops pulling. One of his fingers presses on the bottom of the cup to release the vacuum, and then he pulls it down, deftly getting the wide rim out of you with a corkscrew motion. 

You then look at him kneeling before you with his fingers covered in blood, holding a very full cup. And smiling like a pleased cat who expects a treat. 

“What do you usually do with it?” He asks. “Can I pour it in our passionfruit tree pot? Poor guy needs the help since Lizet peed at his root.” 

You nod, absentmindedly. Who cares where that shit disappears to, as long as it’s not your problem anymore?

August soon returns and cleans your cup with the foaming cleaner, then leaves it on the shelf under the mirror while he washes his hands too. 

“August? I feel better now. Thank you. But…” You say, catching his gaze in the mirror. 

“I know, babe. Me too.” He says, walking towards you and picking you up. “We can go out later. Or tomorrow.” 

He carries you to the bedroom and lays you down on the bed before lying down next to you and pulling you to him, one leg over his hip. 

“I am so damn turned on right now,” he confesses in a low grunt. “Tell me I’m not reading this wrong.” 

“You’re not. God. Yes. As soon as your fingers were in my pussy everything stopped mattering. I’m such an addict for you.” 

“I can tell.” August says, his fingers finding their way back inside you, only now staying on the spots that feel good and his thumb slowly circling your clit. “Very convenient, since I too can’t hold back when it comes to you.” 

Now his breath is caressing your neck and the tops of your breasts as he speaks and his lips find yours, then your neck.

When the orgasm tears through you, it’s unexpected and stronger than you’d imagine. Usually you need more time to warm up, but you figure the relief and how hot August is being on the occasion are like catalysts for your arousal. 

“Fuck, I love it when you come for me.” He purrs in your ear, rolling you onto your back and taking his place between your legs. Knees spread far apart, he arranges your legs on either side of his hips and rests his cock against your pussy, sliding it back and forth a few times, watching your labia part to cradle and wet it. “That’s the stuff,” he whispers, his voice impossibly low and thick with arousal. 

The head of his cock is nudging into your clit with every forward slide, making that itch rise in you again. 

Soon, he takes pity on you and decides to end your torture, pushing in and pausing that little bit while stretching your entrance, knowing you love that in particular. He then finally slips all the way in, sighing blissfully when he is fully sheathed in you. 

“Good God, I will never tire of this. Of you. You feel like heaven.” He murmurs, looking down at you with sheer adoration and desire. 

He leans over you, changing the angle between your bodies so that when he starts to move, your clit gets in on the action. 

All thoughts and feelings of pain and discomfort are long gone, replaced by August and the way he feels inside and above you. Your hands caress his arms, his chest, his back, his abs and every other part of him they can reach. You pull him close and cross your ankles behind him, wanting him as close as possible. 

He leans all the way down over you, kissing your lips slowly and softly and letting his hands find your breasts, squeezing carefully and sliding his thumbs over your nipples, watching them turn hard. 

Soon, his hands rest on either side of you as he needs leverage to pick up the pace and move inside you faster, in search of his own release. 

You are already close again, and this time you can relax because he gave you a head start. So you just watch him, powerful and and golden like a god from an old painting, muscles shifting beneath his soft skin. 

You can tell he is close because his voice goes up. August is a moaner and whiner when he comes and that stuff never gets old. His face never contorts in funny ways - he just closes his eyes and a serene look takes over his features as he empties inside you, panting and moaning. 

His sounds always get you, reaching that primal deep spot inside you, the one that makes your uterus contract painfully and then send pleasure all over your body. Such is the case this time around as well, and his moans and breathlessly whispered nonsense throw you over the edge as well. 

All goes white for a long moment and when you come to, you feel incomplete again, crashing back down to earth as August pulled out and is moving to get the towel he also brought to bed earlier. 

You pull him back next to you, holding him close, needing to soak in the moment in all its perfection.

Smiling, he returns by your side, caressing a stray lock of hair away from your face. 

“How are you feeling?” He asks.

“Like floating.” 

“See? I was able to help once you told me what it was.” He smugly points out. 

And you have to agree. Looking down, you notice that there’s small traces of blood on his length, but it’s not the gory affair your mind panicked by imagining. And you didn’t stain the bed either. Plus, your pain and discomfort are gone. 

Totally worth it.


End file.
